Wednesday, 24 July 2013

J. Hill

Soft spiralling sways
to her heather trodden ways
in lilac velvet mist
with lips tangerine kissed.

Free feather float
to retreats; rural and remote
where we let dewy soles slide
and help heavy heads hide.

At her sure soaring summit
comes the subsequent plummet,
and as we reach her narcotizing peak
we grow so dependently weak...

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